CHAPTER FIVE
By nine o’clock the next Monday night, I’m starting to fade. My first shift at Santa’s Village has gone surprisingly fast. After working my usual nine to five at Quest, I rushed home, inhaled a bowl of soup, then hurried here to collect my costumes and get changed. As promised, Meredith was waiting for me with my assignment for the day: floater elf.
“You basically wander the Village, making sure to cover as much ground as possible,” she explained. “Talk to people, let them take pictures, hand out candy canes, answer questions. If you have any problems, find one of the guard elves I pointed out during orientation and they can get a message to me or one of the other higher-ups. You’ll do great.”
I roamed the Village for almost two hours, doing all the things Meredith mentioned. The palpable excitement in the air gave me a natural buzz and kept me from getting tired or thinking too much about my sore feet. I posed for at least a hundred pictures, amazed to realize not one of my smiles was forced. In fact, by the time my break rolled around, my face was aching from smiling so much.
Meredith had said seven forty-five would be a good time for my break since families with young kids are either gone or on their way out by then, and the older crowd—teens, couples, groups of friends—start coming in. Employees on breaks can hang out in Elf Central or choose one of the many eateries around the Village. I was going to find somewhere to rest my feet since I’d scarfed that bowl of soup earlier, but I ran into Meredith outside Mama Elf’s Diner and she invited me to join her.
We filled our twenty minute break with non-stop chatter, discovering a shared penchant for ’90s pop music and romantic comedy movies. One of the weird lessons I’ve learned since my college days is how hard it is to make friends as an adult. Other than Bridget, I haven’t made any close friends in years. Some of that is my own fault, between being an introvert and feeling fulfilled by my close bond with Bridget. The other part of it is trying to find things in others to connect with, especially since a lot of people my age are already married and starting families. Meredith seems different, though. I’m cautiously optimistic I’m in the process of making a new friend.
The Village officially closes at nine. Meredith warned me it usually takes until nine thirty to round up all the stragglers and make sure they leave, which is why our shifts last an extra half hour. Sure enough, at nine thirty-five a voice over the loudspeaker announces the last group of visitors just left, and the elves are free to leave the North Pole.
Laughing to myself, I turn in the direction of Elf Central and see Meredith hurrying toward me.
“You survived your first day!” She pulls off her hat and shakes out her hair, sending glitter flying from her blond curls.
“I did. I can’t believe how fast the time went.” I follow her lead and take off my hat, stuffing it in the pocket that held candy canes until fifteen minutes ago when I gave the last of them to a group of teens on their way out of the Village.
“I swear there’s some weird time warp in here,” Meredith says. “Some days do go slower than others, but for the most part time flies by.” Considering she works the same long shift as Celia—from noon, when the park opens, until nine thirty—that says a lot. At dinner, I asked her what she does the rest of the year, and she told me she’s a freelance travel writer. She hates traveling during the winter, so she takes a break to work here.
I’m about to thank her for all her help and say goodnight when she asks, “Did you meet the big guy today?”
“Santa?” I ask, and Meredith nods. “No, I didn’t have a chance. I ended up down that way before dinner, but it was swarming with kids, so I didn’t linger.”
“He won’t be busy now.” She pivots in the direction of Santa’s House, motioning for me to follow. “You should come meet him.”
Hesitation keeps my jingly elf shoes from moving with her. I’m eager to get home, have a quick soak in the tub, and go to bed before I start this whole new routine over again in the morning. Meredith has been so sweet and helpful, though, so I swallow my sigh, plaster a smile on my face, and follow her.
Santa’s House is at the far end of the Village. It seemed strange to me at first since some families come just to see him. Then my marketing brain kicked in and I realized it was a strategic maneuver: to get to Santa’s House, you have to go through the entire Village, past stores and restaurants, kiddie rides and games, plus the reindeer farm. When Celia first brought me here, I was surprised there was no entrance fee, but I quickly realized they make their money selling food, gifts, toys, and souvenirs.
Like everything else in the Village, Santa’s House is an elaborate setup. It’s not actually a house so much as an open scene of what looks like a homey, spacious living room with a gas-lit fireplace, shelves with books and toys lining the walls, and a large couch for Santa to sit on rather than the typical throne-like chair you see at malls. Meredith told me it was so kids can choose to sit on Santa’s lap or beside him, plus it works better for kids who want to go up in pairs or groups. After the resident photographer snaps some pictures, families troop to a room off Santa’s living room, where they’re given one free photo and can choose to buy packages, along with a variety of personalized items with their child’s picture. Meredith wasn’t kidding when she said this place runs like clockwork.
As we approach Santa’s House, I see a short lineup, not of children but of elves. They talk and laugh as they wait to see Santa, who’s currently occupied with a sexy redheaded elf perched on his lap.
“Ah, perfect! I forgot today is Monday,” Meredith says. I give her a strange look and she laughs. “Every Monday after the Village closes, elves can visit Santa. You can chat with him for a few minutes, tell him how your day went, ask for advice. Whatever you want.”
“Seriously?” I ask, my voice high with surprise. I watch as the redhead—who’s wearing her full elf uniform, minus the candy cane stockings, leaving her long, shapely legs bare—climbs off Santa’s lap and blows him a kiss as she walks away. Another elf, this one my height and appearing to be in her mid-thirties, takes her place, giving Santa’s beard a gentle tug.
I’ve heard of people having a Santa fetish. I always assumed it came down to repressed Daddy issues. Personally, I can’t see the appeal of an old man crammed into a red suit and sporting a fake white beard. Different strokes for different folks, I suppose. All I know is I don’t see myself sitting on Santa’s lap anytime soon.
The woman on Santa’s lap hops off and straightens her skirt. He says something to her and she beams before picking a wrapped gift from the wicker basket next to his couch. When I was down this way earlier, there was an elf at Santa’s side handing a wrapped present to each child. All of them are the same size and shape—flat and rectangular. “What are the gifts?” I ask Meredith.
“Books,” she says. “This week’s pick is super cute. It’s the adventures of an adorable little fox.”
“Each kid gets one?” I ask, and she nods. “That must cost a fortune.” I might not read children’s books, but as a bibliophile I spend a ton of time at the library and bookstore, so I’m familiar with the prices of all kinds of books.
Meredith eyes me with her head cocked to the side. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Before she can answer, the redhead bounces up to us, hooking her arm around Meredith’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “You ready to go? There’s a margarita at Connelly’s with my name on it.” She smiles at me and releases Meredith to hold out her hand. “You must be Ivy. Meredith told me you joined the team today. I’m Kasie.”
I shake her outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too! You should come with us to Connelly’s for a drink.” She looks at Meredith, who nods emphatically.
“Connelly’s?” I ask.
